


I've Got Half a Dozen Names and None of them Roll off the Tongue

by imperfectkreis



Series: Nehn Adaar [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Choking, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Angst, Light BDSM, M/M, Oral Sex, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfectkreis/pseuds/imperfectkreis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mage!m!Adaar assumes The Iron Bull hates him, though he has little evidence for it. He's got some evidence that suggests quite the opposite too. They drunkenly sleep together and have to make sense of it after the fact. Spoilers for a number of game plot points but deviates from the in-game romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got Half a Dozen Names and None of them Roll off the Tongue

Nehn knows love is real. He knows it because even under the Qun, his parents found one another. They loved so fiercely that they ran from the only ideology they ever knew into the great unknown populated by people who looked nothing like them, who would only despise them. By choice they became different people than who they were. They became people at all. He remembers them dancing by the fire, trying to keep the Marches chill of winter out of their bones. It did not matter that they were scorned and feared. They paid their rent and had each other. That was all that was needed.

Nehn knows love is real. He knows it because when he first sent sparks skittering across the floor during a crying fit, his mother raised him up in her arms and held him close. When he thinks back on it, he knows he must have hurt her badly. Perhaps that is why she squeezed so tight, her muscles convulsing involuntarily as lightning crashed out of his tiny body along with his sobs. But she held him close and whispered in his ear that he was her darling boy. No one would come for him. There were tears in her eyes.

He always knew his mother was a fine seamstress. One of the elves in the city sold the things she made. Humans accepted elven labor, but not hers. They would not believe her 'fat fingers' could do such fine work, but they could, they did.

He did not know until he was much older that under the Qun she had sewn shut the mouths of Saarebas. Their mouths being cut an restitched as they aged. Never once did she call him by that name. Saarebas. Sometimes, she called him "my little elf." No one would ever silence him.

It was not until he was grown that he contemplated the origin of the scars on his father's lips.

\--

The Iron Bull despises him. He does not say as much, instead offering that Nehn is not the sort of Vashoth who causes trouble, that he is thankful that his parents cared for him as human parents would. Nehn wants to bite back that they were greater than that. That Bull and his 're-education' would never understand the love that his parents gave, that they took. And now they are gone. Bull will never understand when Nehn says they are at the Maker's side, he truly believes as much. 

The Maker loves them all, even if the Chantry does not.

Others want to tell him the Maker's love is not for him. A Qunari, a mercenary, a mage. He refuses to listen. After all, Andraste chose him. He knows he is chosen, because when the mark glows, he can feel the Fade coming forward. He can feel his parents on the other side. Every fiber of his being wants to run to them, instead he must zip the rifts closed. Afterwards he is always exhausted.

\--

They kill their first dragon and Nehn is so full of life he feels like he might burst. He can't help it, he rushes towards Cassandra, all covered in dragon blood and goop and lifts her right off the ground. Her sword and shield clatter to the ground. For her part, she forgets to be cross and laughs from somewhere deep inside her chest. Her armor presses against his robes and he's blissfully happy in that moment. Out of everything they've done, this makes him happy. He wonders if it is because, despite everything, he is still Qunari. He can't escape it.

Her hair is wild, sticking up at odd angles, and the sun comes through it in bright patches. There appear to be scales in her hair too. Red cheeked and out of breath, she is beautiful. He wishes he could love this woman. Because she believes in love as well. Real passion. Because they both believe, he will never pursue her. He would not lie to her regarding who he is.

He kisses her on both cheeks before putting her down. She remembers who they are and her smile fades, but does not disappear. 

\--

The Iron Bull wishes to drink with him, surprising. But he feels like they should celebrate the slaying of their first dragon. Nehn agrees, it's only polite. They drink hard liquor and Nehn tries to keep up. Bull laughs heartily when he can't. It's not his fault. Bull probably has eighty pounds on him.

Bull grabs one of Nehn's shorter horns and shakes it. Exclaiming that it's so fucking good to take down something so fucking big. And didn't he know? Dragons were about as close to sacred as one could get under the Qun.

Nehn looks at the bottom of his mug and calls that blasphemy. 

But Bull doesn't stop talking. He speaks of the Tamassrans, and wonders if they didn't mix a little dragon in somewhere in their ancient past. Maybe that's why they've got horns. Why they look dragon-y. The idea of it makes Nehn sick to his stomach. To be bred, like horses or cattle. He takes another drink.

He gets drunk enough to smile when Bull speaks. Drunk enough to no longer be quite so suspicious about Bull turning him over. He's had nightmares of it, waking to a room of re-educators. Bull leading them, smiling at his cleverness. They hold him down, spit his new name, Saarebas. They take his voice. The screaming now is only in his head.

When Bull grabs his horn again and pulls, he does not bat the hand away.

"You should come to my quarters." The way Bull says it does not sound like a question.

Nehn considers it, because he is lonely and Bull does not believe in love, not the way he does. Bull doesn't even like the mage. But that's maybe why Bull offered. He said the Qunari don't have sex with their friends, the ones they love. So maybe Nehn is acceptable by that criteria.

Bull rises from his seat at the bar and stands behind Nehn. Puts one hand on each of his shoulders and rubs his calloused thumbs along the back of Nehn's darker neck. That alone makes the difference in their sizes clear. Nehn is so used to being massive he sometimes forgets among the Qunari he would not be. Bull reminds him. 

"You do suck cock, don't you?" Bull drops the volume of his voice. There aren't many around at this hour, but he is still cautious with his words. Nehn is still the Inquisitor, still has his sterling reputation to uphold. Were he not Qunari, were he not a mage, were he not a lot of things, he'd be the perfect image of Andraste's chosen.

"What gave you that impression?" He wishes that he had another drink. Something to occupy his hands and mind and lips.

"Because you're here with me instead of being balls deep in our lovely Seeker."

He knows he's being goaded, but he will not lie about it. He cannot.

\--

Nial was an elf and he was beautiful, blond hair and fair skin and eyes as blue as Nehn's. He baked bread for the Bann and lived with his parents two doors down from Nehn. Already in his twentieth year, his parents were desperately trying to find him a suitable wife among the alienage girls. They didn't know how "that Qunari boy" hid in alleyways waiting for him, just a taste when he could get it.

In those same alleyways, Nehn would drop to his knees and clumsily suck Nial, swallow him down until he came in thick spurts against his tongue. But no, Nehn couldn't breathe a word of it, to anyone. Not because he was a Qunari, but because he was fifteen. Nial would be in a great deal of trouble if anyone found out. When he earned enough gold for them to run away, he would come for Nehn, they would be together. Such things he promised. But not yet. He'd touch Nehn's swollen lips with his slender fingers.

So be quiet, little Qunari with an elven name.

In his twenty-first year, Nial married the girl his parents had chosen. She was beautiful too, in the way only a woman could be.

\--

Bull pushes him against the mattress and tears at his robes. They're expensive, he needs them, but Nehn says nothing. He let's Bull ruin them. It feels somehow fitting.

He claws at the straps of Bull's harness, as if there is more flesh to be revealed. It's a formality more than anything else, an attempt to level the playing field. But it's never been level. It can't be.

"So you're not as scrawny under there as you look." Bull smirks and nudges Nehn's thighs apart, presses his whole body between the mage's legs and thrusts. 

He can feel Bull's length through the fabric of his breeches, the heat of it as well. 

It's like Bull, really, to make him feel inferior. He's compact, not weak. Lean and muscular rather than oversized. He trained diligently as a mercenary, they all did, but had no need to bulk. Bull's hands trail down the length of his torso, dipping in and out of the ridges of his musculature. Nehn breathes sharply at the stimulation. 

Bull's hands continue lower, past Nehn's erection and to the curve of his ass. He nips at the mage's neck as a distraction, but it's not a good one.

"No, not that," Nehn whimpers. "I'll suck you, but not that." Yes, he's drunk, but he knows what he's agreeing to and what he's not.

"Really?" Bull moves his hand back up, to press down on Nehn's hip. He grinds their bodies together again. The weight of him is heavy against Nehn, but that he doesn't mind. "Because I think your cock is saying different."

Nehn breaths to steady his voice. "Not that."

Bull shrugs his shoulders and presses down on Nehn's hip again, almost to the point of pain, but he stops just short. He feels like he's sinking. "Shame, I've thought about that ass, what you were hiding under those robes. I'm not disappointed."

A whine catches in Nehn's throat and he jerks his hips up involuntarily. But he won't. He won't give himself to someone who doesn't love him. It might feel right, but it isn't.

"Well," Bull stands and starts on his belt. "Get on your knees then, if you're so greedy for it."

Nehn slides to the floor, shredded robes bunching around his knees. He feels exposed, is exposed. Bull grabs his chin in his hand and forces him to look up. One of his fingers skims Nehn's lower lip.

"Take them off, all the way. I want to see you," Bull commands. Nehn obeys.

The room is cold, the floor is hard, and Bull's finger slips past his teeth. 

"Open."

And Nehn does. Keeps his blue eyes open and his mouth too. He waits on his knees for Bull to finish freeing his cock. But he does not drop his breeches all the way, just enough exposure for Nehn to work him. He's large and thick and Nehn should have expected as much. But he hasn't been with another Qunari. He doesn't want Bull to know that, but he probably already does.

Bull smirks at the way Nehn's eyes go wide. Of course he knows. He grabs him by one horn, using the other to guide his cock into Nehn's open mouth. Once he's sheathed he takes the other horn as well. Bull holds him in place, thrusting his cock into Nehn's mouth as he pleases. Slow, languid rhythm that nearly chokes him on the downstroke. Tears bite at the corners of his eyes but he does not protest. He won't lie. He likes this.

"Touch yourself."

When Bull says it, Nehn's hands can't rush fast enough to his cock. He feels so full, vulnerable but wanted. He stokes his cock in time with the thrust of Bull's hips, slow, torturous. He does what he can with his tongue, licking at the underside of Bull's cock. When it produces rumbling groans of satisfaction, Nehn knows he's done well.

"Trying to make me cum, little Chantry-boy?"

Nehn moans his assent. It's all he can manage.

"You're beautiful like this," Bull's thrusting continues, deeper, holding longer, testing Nehn's limits. He waits until Nehn chokes on his own saliva before pulling back. When he does, he strokes the mage's horn like he's a good boy. "I'd like to see you on your knees more often."

Nehn can feel Bull's close and he's right behind. He's glad in a way that he's stroking himself, but he does wonder about Bull's larger, coarser hands. Whether he'd be rougher with him. Almost certainly. 

"I'd still like to see my cock in your other hole." He breathes heavily between words, fighting what is coming. "I'd fuck the Chantry-boy right out of you."

Bull strangles his own moan as he comes down Nehn's throat. It tastes strongly and he swallows as fast as he can manage. Not fast enough and it runs out the side of Nehn's mouth. Bull controls his head, as he has all along, pulling him off his softening cock and holding his eyes though Bull has only the one. "Come, Chantry-boy."

He does, and he's loud about it. Moaning and spilling over his fist, whimpering through the end. He's overstimulated from touch and talk. His eyes close and he let's go; he feels Bull holding his face in his hands. His fingers are twitching.

When he opens his eyes, Bull is still cradling his head between his palms. His eyes are softer than they were a moment ago, concerned. 

"I thought your control was better," the concern has already shifted to disappointment. 

"I shocked you, didn't I?"

"Just at the end."

Nehn knew from the twitching fingers, but he couldn't stop it. It was like breathing, sometimes.

"I...apologize."

Bull stands and offers him a hand up. When Nehn stands, Bull pulls him against him, pressing their chests together and placing his hand at the back of Nehn's neck. "You need better control."

"I'm fine. I'm just a little drunk yet, and I was excited." It's true. If there is anything he needs, it is not to be put in such a situation again. Still, Bull feels good around him, holding him upright and stroking his neck.

"Get into bed, I need to put out the lamps."

That is not the response that Nehn expects. He'd expected a number of things. Yelling and cursing at his momentary loss of control. Half-muttered excuses about why he should really return to his quarters. Justifications that they were just drunk and should not speak of it again.

But he crawls into bed, pulls Bull's scratchy covers over his body. With his robes ruined he has nothing to wear. Nehn resolves that's a problem for the morning. For now he is too tired to solve it.

\--

Dorian tells him next time he should consider one of Cullen's men. He'd be more than happy to point the Inquisitor in the right direction, though he admits he has already claimed the most dashing of those available for himself.

Nehn asks if everyone knows that he spent the night in Bull's quarters. Dorian says they will if he doesn't better cover the bite on his neck, it's too big to be anyone else. His hand goes to his neck and Dorian laughs, saying there's nothing there and it was only a test. He didn't even know it was Bull until Nehn said as much. Nehn's embarrassment runs deep.

\--

Tomorrow he departs for Empress Celene's ball. He's leaving Bull behind, because the only thing worse than one Ox-man at court, it's two.

He thinks about Hawke and wants to blame her for the state of the world. Not the hole in the sky, but the Mages and Templars on the ground. He knows it's not her fault. The demon said she couldn't change anything, that she never mattered. 

Left behind in the Fade, her final words were an apology. 

"I'm sorry, Anders."

And Nehn is sure she knew love is real. She must have, to still call for a man who betrayed her trust, a terrorist and a liar. To worry about him even after he tore her apart. Varric says he has no knack for romance, but Nehn has read "The Tale of the Champion," and he begs to differ.

There is a knock at his door and he pulls his night robe tightly around himself before answering. It's Bull, with a set of mage robes in his hands.

"I had Dagna make them for you." He pushes the garment against Nehn's chest.

"Thank you," they're soft in his hands, as nice as the ones he lost.

"Listen, boss. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done you like that." He scratches the back of his neck but keeps his eyes forward-facing.

"You didn't do anything I didn't want at the time." He sets the robes aside, but doesn't invite Bull in.

Bull fidgets in the doorway. "And what about now? Do you regret it?"

He doesn't want to lie, so he dances around the truth. "It's not proper."

"What's not?" Bull wants clearer answers.

"I shouldn't...the Inquisition comes first. I should remain focused. And as you saw, I lost control."

"There's more?"

Of course there is more.

"I don't know why it matters. You hate me."

Bull looks shocked at the suggestion. "Did I ever say I hated you? Because I distinctly remember saying the opposite."

Maybe he had, but Bull's a spy and Nehn will never forget that.

"Let me kiss you, please."

Nehn would never expect such words from Bull, from someone who thinks of sex as a chore, if a pleasant one. Nonetheless, they make something in his chest tighten. He wants to. Not with the door open. He steps aside so Bull can enter and he closes the door gently behind him with a low click. With Nehn barefoot and Bull in his boots, their height difference is somewhat exaggerated. 

"Kiss me, then."

Bull's lips are chapped against his. Firm and Nehn yields, maybe more than he should. Bull's hand is at the nape of his neck but he applies no pressure. They simply kiss in silence. Not just once, but a coiling spring of them. Nehn parts his lips. He can feel Bull smile against his mouth. When Bull withdraws, Nehn can taste him still.

"Why?" Nehn doesn't want to sound desperate, but he needs to know.

"I have to figure something out." Only a hint of his smile remains.

"Did you?"

"Not yet, not that easy to change."

\--

At the Ball he dances with Cassandra. He holds her hand and she twirls with the same fine grace she displays in battle. Long lost lessons in dance return to her feet. It's out on the balcony and no one can see them. They're both thankful for the privacy. It would start rumors neither they nor the Inquisition need. Celene is safe and they are victorious. It's been a good night.

She laughs and Nehn asks her if she's in the market for a lover. Surely someone tonight would have caught her interest. She shrugs off the suggestion. Despite what storybooks say, extravagant balls are not the place to find love.

\--

Cassandra confides in him she wishes to be Divine. If the clerics are already suggesting her name, the Inquisitor's support could go a long way. She doesn't ask for it directly, she never would. But Nehn promises it nonetheless. It is where she may do the most good. Nehn thanks the Maker for having given Cassandra to the world.

Cassandra thanks the Maker for him, for his kindness and compassion in lands alien and hostile to him. As if there would be a place in this world not alien and hostile to him. He does not know where that place would be.

He kisses her knuckles and resolves it will be the last time. If she is to be Divine, her reputation should be protected at all costs.

\--

Gatt says Hissrad means liar, as if Nehn did not know that. He thinks it's odd that Nehn has an elven name. Everyone does, even if they do not voice it. Gatt says Nehn means joy, as if Bull did not know that.

He hears the two speak about him after he steps away. That while the Qunari do not openly seek to convert the Inquisitor, they had hoped Hissrad would be a touch more persuasive on the matter. Yet they understand that Corypheus must come first.

Nehn wants to scream. To use his voice. To shock both Gatt and Hissrad until their organs singe inside their bones. He bites back his rage and waits his turn. What would the Qunari want with him? To cut out his tongue while they overrun Thedas? To breed him and produce more Saarebas to shackle? They could not keep his father, and they will not have him.

He does not want this alliance, but he wants to heal the world. But he's not sure this is worth the price, if the Maker would approve.

Hissrad tells the elf that Nehn is Andrastian, devoutly so. They'd have more luck converting Queen Anora than him. His reports cover the topic at length. Gatt asks about what was not in the reports.

They take out the Venatori easily. Gatt spends more time sniping at Dorian than him, thankfully. For once, Nehn is thankful Dorian can't keep his mouth shut. Dorian says the things he cannot for political reasons.

Varric sits on the edge of the cliff, watching the Dreadnoughts come in, rambling on about how this story is bonkers, no one will believe it. 

Nehn cannot bear to look at the ships. He needs this alliance, but he does not want it. Now he even wants to send Hissrad away, toss him into the Waking Sea and watch him drown.

But the Venatori intervene on Nehn's selfish thoughts. A pack of them approach Bull's Chargers, staves alight and preparing a volley of magic they cannot survive. 

"Bull...there are so many of them." He doesn't mean to speak. "Bull, they'll be killed."

Gatt retorts that they must hold their position, or the Dreadnoughts will be lost. Like Hissrad doesn't know that. They're his men, and his people. To withdraw his men would mean breaking the alliance with the Qunari.

It's more than the alliance. Hissrad would be declaring himself Tal-Vashoth.

It is not a decision Nehn should make. It is a decision he must make. But it's easy. It's an excuse to be rid of them. But Bull, if Bull is hesitating he does not know what it is he wants.

"Tell them to retreat, Bull."

Gatt screams angry things Nehn does not care to hear. When the Drednoughts explode to bits, Nehn does watch. It's oddly beautiful, like stars fall along the Storm Coast.

\--

Bull comes to his chambers, his arm bandaged from the token assassins the Qunari sent after him. He would not let Nehn heal the wound. Under his other arm he carries a bottle of wine, the kind Nehn prefers though it is cheap and common. 

"I'm sorry," Nehn apologizes too much since the Storm Coast. He knows Bull hates it, perhaps that is why he does so.

"You need to stop that." Bull crosses the room and puts the wine on the desk. It's an odd sort of peace offering. 

"I've turned you into the very thing you fought against." 

They stand chest to chest, searching for the words to diffuse the tension between them. Bull has not been to his chambers since they kissed. Nehn has not been to Bull's. There are many things they avoid.

"I would have chosen this. Believe me. That much is clear now, even if it wasn't at the time." His hand comes to Nehn's cheek. Nehn leans into the touch, it feels more foreign than he expected. It's been a long time. His eyes close and all he hears is the sound of Bull breathing, his own heart beating.

"Why?" Nehn doesn't know quite to what his own question refers.

"I told you change is not easy. But sometimes you can't help it."

Nehn opens his eyes and waits for Bull to continue. 

"Let me kiss you, please."

"Yes," the word is barely past Nehn's lips when Bull is on him. 

It's not like the last time. That was a question and this more an exclamation. Bull holds him at the hips, drawing them together. He kisses Nehn so fiercely he feels he might drown in it. Like it's the sea crashing against his lips. Nehn's arms go around Bull's neck and he holds on. No choice but to be carried along.

And carried he is, until they crash against the stone wall. It's solid against Nehn's back and he gasps on contact. He doesn't know how far Bull expected this to go, but he's already pawing at the buckles on his harness. Nehn doesn't care if it's a desperate thing to do, he wants this release however he can wretch it. It's careless. Now it's not just him who is vulnerable, but both of them.

The harness buckle comes open and Nehn smiles because he remembered the pattern of it. He pushes the leather away between Bull biting at his neck. This time he may leave a mark. As he drops to the floor, Nehn scratches his blunt nails down the front of Bull's chest. That may mark too.

"Wait," Bull gasps, "we need to talk."

But Nehn doesn't want to wait, doesn't want to talk.

"After."

"No," but he's hesitant. "Now." Bull grabs the back of his robe and hoists him back up to his feet.

"You started it."

"Yeah, yeah I did, but we clearly need to talk."

Nehn huffs in annoyance. He wants release, not more confusion. It's enough right now to feel that Bull wants him, to pretend this is more than it appears to be.

"Then talk."

Bull releases him and covers his mouth with his hand, choosing his words. They’re only under this breath. "You don't know what you do to me, Kadan."

Nehn feels the electricity spike inside him. What? His mouth runs dry and full of sparks.

"I want you, I want to fuck you until you scream my name. And I don't want anyone else to fuck you either. In fact," Bull laughs like it's some sort of joke, "I want to find everyone else who has fucked you in the past and beat them to a pulp. Is that normal?"

"I-I don't know. And there's no one..." Nehn wants to melt into the wall behind him, claw his way through. It's heavy in his chest, this feeling, he didn't expect it to be like this.

"Oh! That's why, wait, so you were a virgin?"

"Maker, no! I've been with people...just not that."

"Just you haven't been fucked?"

"Yeah." Put like that, it is rather embarrassing. 

"Ever fuck someone?"

"Maker do you ever stop? No."

Bull let's out a satisfied grunt. "Okay, that explains some things. So listen here," he puts his hands on Nehn's shoulders, looks him right in the eyes with his one good one. " I was sort of hoping not to go back so many steps, but I guess it can't be helped. We'll wait, until you're ready, but I want it to be me. I need it to be me."

"What, who fucks me first?" He has half a mind to just tell Bull to do it. 

To throw him to the floor and take him. That he'll bunch up his robes around his waist and open himself to Bull conquering him. The idea of it heats his cheeks. Imaging Bull behind him, over him, under him, anywhere. His nails scratching down Bull's back as their bodies move together. He thinks about what it would feel like to be that full, to be at Bull's mercy. He's thankful that his skin is so dark the flush rarely shows through. 

He doesn't say those things though, because.

"Who earns your love, Kadan."

Nehn knows love is real. He knows because Bull kisses his parted lips and then draws away. Not enough to distance, but enough to wait. He waits for Nehn to respond with soft attention.

"Yes," Nehn’s voice cracks, "please."

**Author's Note:**

> re this fics title: FOB-esque fic titles 2k15. Title everything ridiculously.


End file.
